No Matter How I Try
by Fallen.Debutante
Summary: DASEY. Multi-Chapter fic. Casey figured she wouldn't see Derek very often when she ended up getting a one bedroom apartment her first year at Queens rather than living on campus. She was wrong. *insecure!casey* Rating MIGHT change.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi Dasey lovers. I recently discovered this little community and read just about every Dasey in existence. When I exhausted them all, I realized there was nothing left to do to satiate my obsession but write my own fic, so here we go. I've got about 7 or 8 chapters written already, so stay tuned for more soon (:**

**Disclaimer: I obviously do not own life with Derek. If I did, the show would have ended differently and it would not have been rated G. **

**I**

Casey didn't stay a virgin long after heading off to university. She got caught up in the campus norm which seemed to penetrate every social situation, every aspect of her life. Sex was everywhere, and not only had everyone had it, everyone constantly wanted it. People spoke of it as though a day without sex wasn't a day worth living, and she was sick of feeling like she was missing out on an integral part of the university experience.

Her first time didn't last long. It wasn't with a stranger – she couldn't even fathom a situation in which she would let herself go through with something like that – but he wasn't necessarily someone with whom she felt entirely comfortable, either. They'd made out a few times, so she figured he'd be a willing candidate. And since sex was what all that _other stuff_ is supposed to lead up to anyway, why not just get it over with so she could finally stop feeling like such a freak?

Everything about the experience was mediocre, from the mediocre foreplay to the mediocre act itself to the mediocre cuddling and the mediocre goodbye the next morning. Casey had never been one to settle for mediocrity.

There were nights she scolded herself silently for settling. She was fairly aware before going through with it that she didn't actually want to, but she _wanted _to want to. She was not, by any means, a stranger to sexual desire. But what she'd experienced was sex, the basics. Not love-making, not take-me-now-sex, not even hate-sex – just plain, mechanical, sexual intercourse.

Then there were those rare nights she cried herself to sleep. She'd waited so long, and every fibre of her being wished she had just waited a little bit longer – long enough to meet the right guy for the task. Not necessarily the right guy for the long-haul, just someone for whom she felt _something _– enough, at least, to truly enjoy the experience. Someone she was passionate about; someone like–

"Der-ek!"

Her step-brother opened her front door just as she had bent over to organize her shoes, and it hit her right in the head.

"Shit, Case, I'm so sorry…" He seemed genuinely apologetic, but she wasn't having it. How many times had she told him to knock over the past three years? She hadn't thought it would be an issue now that she finally had her own place, but evidently, she was wrong.

She picked up a flip flop and chucked it at Derek, who was virtually defenseless, his hands occupied by a heaping laundry basket. He broke out into a wide grin, realizing she wasn't seriously injured.

"Aw, you'll get over it, space-case. Nothing a little makeup won't hide."

She gasped and ran to the nearest mirror. The last thing she needed was a huge bruise on her forehead.

"You're such a jerk!"

"Yeah, yeah. Can I borrow some laundry detergent?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't you think that's a little presumptuous of you? What if I didn't have any?"

"You're not fooling anyone; I know you're too anal to ever run out of anything." She opened her mouth to protest, but decided it was useless. Besides, she had nothing planned for the day and no roommates to occupy her time; this apartment was paid for by Casey's father, who knew this would be a more comfortable living arrangement for her first year, in more ways than one.

"You know where it is," she said, exaggerating her defeatist attitude. He smirked, and she was sure to conceal her smile until after Derek had already brushed past her in the direction of the laundry room.

Derek stopped by sometimes. In fact, Derek stopped by quite often. Casey tried (and failed) not to acknowledge just _how_ often.

"So…what have you been up to?" she asked. She had followed him and was leaning against the wall by the door to the laundry room, watching as he separated his whites and darks. (She'd taught him well!) It had been a week exactly since they had seen each other last. Most of his time was occupied by hockey and trying to stay on top of his grades in order to keep his scholarship. Casey was as studious as ever.

"Oh, you know," he replied. "Women. Booze. Livin' the life."

Casey didn't let on that she didn't believe him.

The two of them spent the afternoon together, marathon-watching Game of Thrones in Casey's living room and bickering at every chance. Derek got up occasionally to tend to his laundry and each time he returned, his new position on the sofa made Casey uncomfortable in one way or another. When they finally came to the mutual decision to order a pizza, it took the pair twenty minutes to decide which type. Derek hogged the dipping sauce (typical!) and Casey threatened no less than six times to never let Derek do his laundry in her apartment again. But when Derek's clothes were all clean and dry, a familiar awkwardness took up residence in Casey's apartment; they both knew that if Derek stayed, that meant he _wanted_ to be there, and that simply wasn't possible. So, he grabbed his basket and left, muttering a half-assed goodbye while Casey pretended to be distracted by the television so as to hide her disappointment.

However, they both also knew with the utmost certainty that he'd be back.

This was their relationship, and she had no idea what to make of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**I went back and read everything I'd written so far, and realized that this story kind of gets off to a slow start. I promise some fun stuff is coming up soon, so stick with me. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own LWD.**

**II **

The next time they saw each other, it was unintentional on both ends.

Casey was running late for class. (There is, after all, a first time for everything.) Nothing seemed to be going her way that morning. Her usual eight minute walk had already taken fourteen minutes thanks to lights that took forever to change, large groups of slow-walking students who took up the entire sidewalk, and a campus fair at which she'd had to stop twice and politely refuse offers of club info. (She couldn't have just ignored them; that would have been _rude._)

She finally made it to the elevator, which was on its way down from the top floor, and had to do a double take as the doors opened and revealed that Derek had been the passenger. Surprisingly, this was the first time she'd ever run into him on campus.

"Well, if it isn't my least favourite step-sister," he said as they exchanged places.

"Well, if it isn't my least favourite _person," _she retorted.

He flashed her a wicked smile and raised a single eyebrow as he told her to have fun in class. Casey found herself contemplating his reply but everything became clear the moment she stepped off the elevator and her nose was assaulted by a repulsive smell. Her heart sank as she approached her classroom and read a hand-written note taped to the door: _Class cancelled due to sewage leak. _

A cancelled class was typically enough to evoke disappointment, but after all she'd gone through to get there, it seemed like an even greater loss.

Upon her return to the main floor, she was greeted by none other than one Derek Venturi, leaning against the wall directly in front of her, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.

"You jerk!" she cried before the elevator doors had fully opened. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"That would've been too easy," he said coolly, and put his arm around her shoulder. "C'mon Case, let's go for a walk. I know you have nowhere else to be."

Casey rolled her eyes and let out a sigh but continued to walk beside him in the direction of the club fair, painfully aware of his body against hers. (Since when was he this touchy?)

"So, has Nora been on your case about coming home for Thanksgiving, too?" he asked.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that," she admitted. It was only two weeks away, but something had been holding her back from asking him about transportation arrangements.

(Why on earth was his arm still around her shoulder?)

"Stop right there, Casey. Of course your loving, gracious, handsome step-brother would be more than happy to drive you…" he pulled her closer, "for a price."

She wriggled out of his grasp. "Der-ek! I already let you do your laundry at my place, what else do you want?"

"I kind of need a place to stay this weekend."

Her mouth went dry, and she told herself it was simply because that wasn't anywhere near what she'd expected him to say. (Well? What else could have caused it?)

"How come?" she asked

He stopped in front of the booth for the Film & Media Society and picked up a brochure. "My roommate's girlfriend is driving up from Toronto and staying the weekend; even _you_ can probably understand why I wouldn't want to be around for that."

"I don't see the big deal, can't you just…" she stopped, realizing too late what Derek had been implying. She blushed, embarrassed by her failure to pick up on the innuendo. "Oh. You two sleep in the same room."

"There you go. Spacey as ever," he teased.

"Hey! Don't forget, you're the one asking me for a favour, here!"

"Actually, you're the one who needs a ride back to London," he reminded her.

"As if mom and George would ever let you leave without me," she called his bluff.

"How are they supposed to stop me if they're five hours away?"

She crossed her arms. "They'd probably be so disappointed in you that they'd make you turn around and come back. You willing to risk that?"

He opened his mouth, all too ready to spit out a clever retort. His face fell. She was right; he would never leave without her, but not for the reason she had in mind. And he wasn't about to confess anything.

She watched him carefully and realized she had won.

"Ha! Admit it, Venturi! You were totally bluffing!"

He skimmed over the brochure in his hands, ignoring her accusation but not actually retaining any information. Casey poked his side, and he flinched.

"Admit it!" she demanded again, with a smug, victorious smile on her lips.

"Fine!" He groaned. "Can we just call it even? You get a ride back home, and I get a place to stay?"

"No deal, Derek. I don't trust you to clean up after yourself."

"I'll eat out," he said.

"Promise not to touch my stuff?"

"Cross my heart."

"One more thing…" she said confidently.

He braced himself for her final condition.

"I get control of the radio in the car."

"No way!" he cried. He'd experienced far too much of her meaningless teeny-bopper crap when they'd lived together in high school.

"That's my condition!" she wasn't letting him get off that easy.

"Casey, have a heart. It's a five-hour car ride, and I'm going to be driving."

She opened her mouth to stand her ground, determined to outdo Derek as she had been since the moment she met him. But the poor kid looked helpless, for what was maybe the first time ever. Besides, she'd known from the moment he admitted his motive that her answer was going to be yes. She just wanted to milk his desperation for all she could get.

"Fine," she conceded. "No radio. For either of us."

He winced, but held out his hand to shake on it.

"This means we'll actually get to _talk _to each other," she reminded him, and he groaned.

Casey smiled the entire walk home. Maybe her trip to campus hadn't been such a waste, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all the feedback so far! I've been finding it extremely difficult to give the characters depth, writing from a largely omniscient point of view. This is definitely a learning experience for me (: **

**Disclaimer: I do not own LWD. **

**III**

He showed up at her door Friday night with a duffel bag and a six-pack of beer. When Casey answered she was clearly in the process of getting ready to go out. Her hair was curled and she was wearing about twice as much eye makeup as Derek had ever seen her wear. But what really gave her away was the dress – a lacy, black garment with a low V-neck and thin straps made of thick, gold curb link chains, not that he knew what those were.

What he did know was that she looked incredible.

"Going somewhere?" he managed to sputter out.

"No, Derek, I went to class looking like this," she replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

"Um, Case, if you're that desperate to meet guys, I can introduce you to some people…"

"Shut up, Derek," she said. "I don't have time for your crap, I'm already running late for a stupid event I don't even want to attend."

She turned her back to him on her way to her bedroom and revealed that her dress was also completely open-back.

"Uh, Case," he called after her, setting his bag down beside the couch on which he assumed he'd be sleeping. "Where exactly are you going that requires you to wear…" he gulped, "_that." _

"Derek," she said sternly from her room. "If you could refrain from insulting my outfit, I'd really appreciate it. I had a hard enough time deciding on this dress; I don't have time to pick a new one."

Casey hated running late. She liked to keep a tight schedule, but she knew the real reasoning behind it was that to be late implied someone was waiting for her, and Casey hated letting people down. She also hated feeling like she was annoying someone. Or that they were angry with her.

"Who's insulting?" Derek called from the sofa.

She reappeared in her doorway with a hand on her stomach and let her eyes meet his. "You think it's okay?" she asked timidly.

"You still haven't told me where you're going."

"Oh. That pretentious new club that opened up a couple weeks ago, you know… the one with the French name?"

"You go clubbing?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"Sometimes. Only when other people instigate it. It's my friend's birthday." And like that, she was reminded that she was on a schedule and slipped back into her room to dig through her jewelry.

"Why don't you want to go?" Derek asked after a minute or two of silence.

She emerged from her room again; all that was left for her to do was pick a pair of shoes and she was good to go.

"I just _love_ _it_ when guys grind up behind me without even asking first. Definitely my idea of fun," she stated bitterly.

"Bit of advice, sunshine," he said, reacting defensively to her bad attitude. "If you don't want guys rubbing their junk up against you, don't dress like that."

And suddenly, she could feel tears stinging her eyes; not as a direct result of his comment but from the combination of a lack of sleep, her unpunctuality, and above all, her unwillingness to discuss her own insecurity with someone who would probably just ridicule her for it. How could he possibly understand? He had been worshipped by everyone around him for – from what she understood – ever.

"I'm not discussing this with you." She'd intended for the statement to sound assertive, but her voice faltered and Derek noticed.

"Casey…" he started candidly, and she knew that if he continued in that manner that she'd start crying for sure.

"Please just drop it," she cut him off.

He didn't know how to react. He stared at her for a few moments, opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. Finally, he offered her a beer. For a brief instant she considered making a face, but she also knew it would take the edge off. She took it from him and chugged about half before deciding she needed a break.

"Speaking of alcohol," Derek said, "how are you going to get in tonight? You're still eighteen."

"All-ages event," she replied, and brought the can to her lips again. Derek watched her in amazement. He'd half-expected her to spit it all over him, and here she was, polishing it off within a matter of seconds. "How did you even get this?" she asked.

"Roommate's nineteen, he took a year off. This was his way of saying thank you for vacating this weekend. I thought maybe we'd share them tonight but…"

"Yeah, sorry," she interjected. "Anyway, I really have to go. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks Case." He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and started flipping through the channels. "Oh, and by the way," he turned his head to face her on her way out the door.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry for what I said. You look amazing."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi friends (: Thank you for your continued feedback. As I write this I realize how unoriginal I am, so I've already started brainstorming ideas for my next Dasey fic… muahaha. Don't worry, though. I will finish this one before I let myself get swept up in the next. **

**IV**

It was not an all-ages event. Casey arrived at the pre-drink only to be surprised by the gift of a fake ID. Well, not fake, _per se_. Just not Casey's.

"It's my cousin's roommate's older sister!"

Casey looked up from the driver's license in her hand to Petra, the birthday girl, who probably expected Casey to be grateful for this 'gift'.

"I was worried you wouldn't come if you knew," Petra continued, "but this way you have no choice; you're already here and ready to go!"

Silence.

"Oh Casey, don't look at me like that. The bouncers don't give two shits whether it's actually you. They just want to make sure you have a piece of ID that says you're legal age…"

Still, Casey remained speechless. She knew this was wrong, and that there was a definite chance of getting in trouble, but she hadn't made many friends since coming to Queens. And Petra was right, she was already dressed.

"…besides," the birthday girl continued, "this chick actually kind of looks like you, don't you think? They can't prove it isn't you. Just memorize the address and postal code, you'll be fine."

"Thanks Petra, this is awesome," Casey finally said, albeit reluctantly. Petra squealed and hugged her new friend.

"Come on! I made jello shots!"

xxx

Casey stumbled in her front door well after 2am.

Derek was up.

"How was it?" he asked from the sofa, not bothering to look away from the television. (What? He didn't want _her _to know that he was glad to see her back in one piece.)

She messily kicked off her shoes. "I'm going to," _hiccup, _"bed," she replied, and started in the direction of her bedroom.

Immediately, the TV was off and Derek was on his feet.

"Case, are you drunk?"

"Who, me?" she asked. She stopped outside her door and leaned against the wall to steady herself. "Nooooo," she slurred with a mischievous smile.

"I thought you said it was an all-ages event?" Derek said, crossing his arms.

"They," _hiccup, _"lied to me. But I was already there and spent all that time getting," _hiccup, _"ready," she whined.

"You still didn't answer my question. How was it?"

"Horrible," she said. "And then not so horrible. And then horrible," _hiccup, _"again. But I know you don't really care, so I'm going to bed."

"Casey, don't tell me what I care about."

"Then don't make it so," _hiccup, _"obvious that you don't," she muttered.

"I'm trying to ask you how your night was. Either go to bed or come tell me, but don't say that I don't care." Casey's eyes met his – really met his – for the first time since she entered the apartment. He looked angry, but there was something else there, something softer.

_Hiccup._

Finally, Casey uttered a weak "sorry" and then proceeded to curl up into a ball on the couch, forcing Derek to take the armchair.

"So?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "We got to the club and Petra had ordered bottle service and it was just so awkward and I didn't know anyone and they were all such naturals and the drinks were free." Another deep breath. "I just," _hiccup _"just wanted to," _hiccup _"to fit in."

_Hiccup._

He stifled a laugh.

She sighed, and sat upright.

"What was the not so horrible part?"

She smirked. "I got drunk."

"You don't say. And the 'horrible again' part?"

"We were on the dance floor, and it was great for a" _hiccup _"while, but then Petra started dancing with some guy" _hiccup _"so when another guy started dancing with me, I figured, why not? This beats being alone at a club."

_Hiccup._

"But then he bought me a drink," she pouted.

"What's wrong with that?" Derek asked.

"Well when he tried to kiss me I felt," _hiccup, _"I felt obligated to let him." She looked down at her hands in embarrassment.

"Casey…"

"And then when I said wouldn't go home with him he started yelling at me and," _hiccup, _"he called me a bitch and a tease."

He noticed a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"Case…"

"And on top of all that," she was raising her voice now, "I can't get rid of these stupid hiccups!"

"Casey, look at me."

But she wouldn't, so he joined her on the couch and let her curl up against his side while he spoke to her.

"You are not a bitch or a tease."

"Maybe I am," she said quietly. "Isn't that why people go to clubs? To find someone to take home?"

"Some people, maybe, but dancing with some stupid guy is not signing a contract to go home with him."

She mumbled something unintelligible into his sweater.

"Casey, I can't hear you when you do that."

"I said: you were right. I shouldn't have dressed like this."

Derek felt a stab of guilt and wished he'd kept his mouth shut earlier. He didn't even know why he had commented on her outfit in the first place. He told himself he'd just been looking out for her the way any brother would look out for their sister, but there was more to it than that, and he knew it.

"Forget what I said. You can wear whatever you want; it doesn't give anyone the right to make assumptions about you or expect things from you."

She sat up again in order to face him, shocked that something so insightful had just left Derek Venturi's mouth.

(His beautiful, _beautiful_ mouth.)

(Shit! She was looking at his mouth.)

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and she continued to stare at him, taken aback by his sensitive behaviour even in her drunken state.

"Your hiccups are gone," he stated, his voice almost a whisper.

She smiled softly as she realized he was right. "Thanks, Derek."

"Wasn't me! If you're gonna thank anyone, thank Mother Nature."

"Not just for that," she said with a laugh. "For being so sweet."

"Me? Sweet? You must be drunker than I thought. Go to bed and let me be!" he exclaimed with a smile, and she took that as her cue to get ready for bed.

Truth be told, he needed her to leave the room to give his heart rate an opportunity to slow down.

But in this case, Derek wasn't telling the truth.

Not even to himself.


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

When Casey woke up the next morning, her first thought was 'how did I get here?'

Her second?

'Shit.'

She buried her face in her pillow as memories of the previous night came flooding back.

She'd made an absolute fool of herself in front of Derek, and the worst part was that their conversation was a blur. She remembered the gist of it: the crying, the whining, the overt honesty.

Since when did they have that kind of relationship? Had he just put up with her because she was drunk and emotional and he was trying to pacify her? It hadn't felt that way at the time but what did she know? The only two things she remembered vividly were the sick feeling in her stomach and the image of his lips.

"Oh god," she said out loud.

She was terrified to leave her room and face Derek sober, but she desperately needed to use the bathroom and had a compulsive desire to shower and brush her teeth as soon as possible.

She stood at her bedroom door and listened for any evidence of Derek's presence in her apartment, but heard none. She cautiously opened the door and poked her head into the living room to find that Derek was nowhere in sight. There was, however, a box of mini-croissants on the table with a note that read:

_Figured you'd want some carbs. _

He was right. The thought of eating fruit at the moment, or god forbid, _eggs_, made her stomach turn. The feeling improved slightly when she acknowledged the fact that Derek had actively bought her hangover food. Maybe she hadn't been so annoying after all?

She grabbed a croissant and devoured it on her way to the bathroom. She then took what may have been the longest shower of her life, scared to leave that safe little bubble and find Derek had returned from wherever he'd gone.

As the hot water poured over her body she thought back to the previous night; the way that scumbag at the club had presumptuously appeared behind her; (did no one _ask _anymore?); the way he had caressed her in ways that made her uncomfortable, to say the least; the way he had told her to "relax, baby" when she tried to remove his hands from her breasts; the way he'd grabbed her wrist so forcefully that she'd actually become frightened. The worst part, however, was Casey's disappointment in herself. Why had she put up with him for so long? Because she'd rather let some stranger subject her than be alone?

Then Derek's sweet words rang in her ears, and she found herself smiling uncontrollably. Sure, she'd seen his soft side before, and there had even been a few occasions in high school when he had come to her defense. But this side of Derek? It was like he had been keeping another layer of himself hidden for three years.

Casey shut off the water – she'd been squeaky clean for about ten minutes already – and stepped out of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her body and wiped some steam off the mirror so she could get a glimpse of herself. She hated looking at her reflection without any makeup on; all she could see was dark circles and blotchiness. She turned away from the mirror and once again, found herself listening at the door for Derek's presence.

She didn't hear any, but when she left the bathroom she spotted Derek's hockey bag by the front door. She connected the dots and realized he must've been at hockey practice all morning.

She took a deep breath and headed in the direction of her bedroom, silently cursing whoever designed the layout of her apartment. He was facing away from her. She briefly considered trying to tip-toe past him, but realized that doing so might make things even more awkward.

"Hey," she muttered, and he turned around.

"Hey."

"Sorry for-" she started, but he interrupted her.

"Being the drunkest girl in North America? Why would you apologize for that? It was hilarious! I can't _wait _to tell Nora!" he teased.

"Der-ek! You can't do that!"

"Relax, Space-Case. I was just messing with you."

His eyes flickered away from her own. She blushed, and he cleared his throat. It became painfully evident at that moment that she was in nothing but a towel, so she scurried into her bedroom.

xxx

That afternoon, the two of them fell back into their regular Saturday routine. Derek washed his hockey equipment while they vegged out in her living room, watch TV and bickering left and right to avoid talking about what had happened the previous night. Though, both found themselves occasionally reminding themselves that _nothing _had happened.

"So," he found himself saying at around 6pm. They were just finishing up their dinner and Casey was browsing through the TV Shows category on Netflix, looking for a new show for the two of them to marathon-watch. "The hockey team is throwing a party tonight."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That sounds like fun," she said after a few moments, still scrolling through shows.

"They expect me to go, it's kind of part of being on the team," he explained.

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I should probably go."

"Okay."

"They'll give me hard time if I don't."

Finally, she turned to face him, and put on her best smile. "No worries, Derek. Honestly, you don't need to explain," she said. "I'll be sure to leave the door unlocked for you."

"Do you want to come?"

Her fake smile suddenly became a real one, and she hoped he didn't notice the difference.

"Sure," she finally said.

"Really?"

"Well, I don't think I'm going to be able to drink again…"

He laughed.

"…but yeah, I wouldn't mind getting out of the apartment."

"Cool," he said.

And then, as though on schedule, an awkward silence fell upon them.

She took a sip of her water.

He stared at his hands.

"I guess I'll go get ready," she said eventually.

"Good. You look like crap," he replied with a smirk.

(There was the Derek she knew and loved.)


End file.
